Worth Waiting For
by TheMsMeep
Summary: Slade has a new method to make Robin join him: seduction. Warning: Dark towards the end.
1. Plan

"I have been hasty with you."

The voice came from behind him. Robin tried to turn, but his own arm blocked the way, held as it was by a chain connected to the ceiling. Even without looking, Robin knew who it was.

"Hasty?" Robin snorted. "Is that what you call this? I'd hate to see you being a psychotic asshole."

"Oh, but I haven't been, little bird. I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to own you. I'm used to taking what I want. It never occurred to me that some prizes are worth waiting for." His hand slid lightly down Robin's chest. "And for that, I am sorry."

Robin wasn't sure what surprised him more- the fact that Slade was apologizing, or that Slade's hands were now brushing softly across his stomach. "W-what are you doing?" Robin's voice was high and not a little breathless. "Isn't it obvious?" Slade's voice was a low, velvety growl as his hands slid lower. "I'm making it up to you."

Slade smirked into the darkness as he caressed Robin. In all his years of chasing the boy, he never would have imagined this. His mind drifted back to the day before. . . .

He'd f_inally_ gotten a camera installed in Robin's room. Despite the front of omnipotence he put up, it had been quite a challenge to get a camera safely into the room of the paranoid Boy Wonder. He himself had distracted the Titans, threatening their beloved city once again, while a specially designed robot slipped quietly into the Tower. He had let himself be beaten fairly quickly after the bot signaled him, eager to see if his scheme had worked.

Oh, how it had worked.

When he first turned the camera on, he was shocked by the sight that greeted him. His little bird was lying on the bed, splay-legged and panting as he drove two fingers into himself. He chuckled at his own surprise. Robin was a teenager, after all. Even heroes had hormones. He started to turn away when something stopped him cold.

"_Slade!_"

At first he thought the boy had somehow realized who was watching him.

"Slade, yes, _please_!" Then he realized. The boy was fantasizing about him. The notion stirred something within him, something devious and . . . lustful. He sat down to watch, conscious of a plan forming even as he hardened.


	2. Proposal

Slade returned to the present with a jolt as Robin moaned. His hands had wandered of his own accord, and he was stroking a now very hard Robin. Slade chuckled darkly as he felt the boy shudder beneath his caresses. This was easier than he had anticipated. "Are you enjoying this, Robin?" he purred.

"Obviously." The answer was calm, despite his apparent arousal at the hands of a man he professed to hate. Slade found himself rather impressed. He had expected denial, resistance, and anger. At the very least, he had been prepared for sulking. This dispassionate acceptance intrigued him.

* * *

"Are you enjoying this, Robin?" Slade's voice only served to make him hotter as he rubbed against the hands that stroked him. Part of him, the part that had been yelling with steadily decreasing fervor about how wrong this was, wanted to deny it. It would feel too much like defeat to acknowledge how much his enemy aroused him. _Oh, get real. _Robin mentally scolded himself. _You're chained to the ceiling, he's fondling you, and you're responding like a horny teenager. It doesn't get any worse than this. _

He was used to squashing his feelings of shame when it came to Slade. He'd been fantasizing about- and getting beaten by- the man for years. Resolving to enjoy this while he could, Robin replied with a curt "Obviously," and went back to enjoying the sensations produced by those wondrous hands on his cock.

"You know Robin, you're surprisingly mature about this. I think that deserves a reward, don't you?" Robin gasped as Slade's lips brushed against his ear. He was so caught up in the sensation of soft lips against his sensitive ears that the significance escaped him for a moment. _Slade wasn't wearing a mask_. Somehow that made the touches a thousand times hotter, and Robin gasped at the desire that flooded through him. _Damnit._ He couldn't help but enjoy this, but he didn't want to give the bastard any satisfaction. "Why are you doing this, Slade?"

- - - - - - - - -

Robin's voice was tinged with the barest hint of breathiness, and once again Slade was struck by his utter _control_. "I told you. I'm making it up to you. I've been a little too impatient. I got preoccupied with what I wanted, instead of considering what you wanted. After all Robin," Slade brushed his lips across the boy's ear again, noting his shudder "It's always been about you."

He could sense his bird forming a reply. As interesting as Robin's current calm demeanor was, Slade was done with talking. The plan he had formed after his discovery was simple: Seduce the boy into joining him. He would offer equality, sweet words, and above all the time to decide- not to mention all the hot sex the teenager could stand. Robin would join him from desire this time, and he would make sure the boy became dependant on him. First, however, he had to begin the seduction.

Slade drew a small knife from within his clothing. As he held it to Robin's chest, he felt the boy tense in fear. "Relax, Robin," he whispered "I won't hurt you." He heard Robin snort in disbelief even as he drew the knife through the fabric of his brightly colored costume.

* * *

Robin gasped as the cool air hit him, soothing the rush of panic that had accompanied the appearance of the knife. He took a sharp breath as Slade's hands moved to his nipples, rubbing softly against the tender buds before pinching them lightly. The tender touches were undoing him. He felt heat building in his groin, and knew his already aching member couldn't take much more. Determined not to come when Slade wasn't even touching his cock, Robin frantically tried to distract himself. "You expect me to believe you don't want anything out of this? You're just going to apologize, walk out of my life, and I'll never see you again?"

Slade paused in his ministrations, and Robin nearly groaned at the loss even though it was what he'd been aiming for. "If that's what you want, then yes. But I'm hoping you'll want me to stay." He paused, as though searching for words, then continued. "Forcing you to become my apprentice was a terrible idea. I underestimated you, even as I sought to train you. Now I see what we could have had. I want you to be my partner, my equal- and my lover."

Frustrated, confused, and horny, Robin finally snapped. His chains rattled as he tried to shake Slade's hands from his body. "What made you change your mind? Why am I chained to the ceiling, if we're equals? What do you WANT, goddamnit?!" Slade took the outburst calmly, tracing small circles across Robin's stomach.

"I want you, Robin. I want you in my bed, by my side, and with me always."

"And what if I refuse? You threaten to kill my friends again? Or you just kill me this time?"

"No. I'll give you time to think it over- a week, perhaps. If you still don't wish to join me, I walk away. But this . . . this will never happen again."

A blindfold was suddenly pulled over Robin's eyes. He stiffened in fear once again, but it quickly melted into desire as his tights were pulled down and a hand ran gently up his thigh. He sighed as the hand cupped his balls, then gasped in shock when something wet touched him. Was that . . . dear god, it was. _Slade is licking my cock. _The thought tore a moan from him. Slade replied with a growl of approval, taking the tip of Robin's erection inside his mouth. Robin gasped and thrust forward, pushing into Slade's warm, wet mouth. As Slade began sucking, Robin melted, rescinding all control as that skilled tongue drove him crazy.

"_Slade! _Oh_, _god_, _Slade!Yes,_ please_!" Robin arched wildly, swinging slightly from the chain that held him. Lightning was building inside him, every movement of Slade's mouth taking him to greater heights. Gasping, shuddering and moaning, he gave one last ear-splitting yell and came with Slade's name on his lips.

He barely registered that Slade's mouth had been removed from his cock, and paid no attention to the clanking and movement of his chains. When they suddenly released, he would have fallen if two muscular arms hadn't wrapped around him. "Remember, little bird," that deep voice whispered "you have a week. When you decide you want me, I'll be here. Waiting." Robin reached for his blindfold as soon as those arms released him, but he already knew what he would find. He was alone in the dark, a silvery chain piled at his feet.


	3. Resolution

He wasn't going back.

Parts of him -one part especially- ached to return. Every fantasy he'd ever had about the enigmatic villain taunted him with the sudden possibility of reality. To learn from Slade, learn _about_ Slade, and all the while play out his darkest fantasies- it was a mind-blowing offer. And it was too good to be true.

Even as he'd made his way home, his sliced shirt left behind and his wrists aching from being bound, Robin had contemplated the proposal. As he slipped quietly from shadow to shadow, not wanting to be seen in his disheveled state, he analyzed Slade's every statement and weighed it against what he knew of the criminal. Slade would never be satisfied with merely teaching him, that much was clear. He would expect Robin's skills to be used for his benefit, and Robin wasn't about to turn to crime willingly.

He also didn't think Slade was willing to walk away should he refuse. Slade was unusually honest, for a criminal, but he'd proved multiple times that he was dangerously obsessed with Robin.

So he waited. Days passed, and the week ended. He fully expected Slade to attack that night, and he paced the Tower, jumping at shadows, until his teammates thought he was insane. He kept the same vigil the next night, and the night after that. Nothing happened. Slade did not appear, the Tower was not attacked, and Robin began to relax. It looked like Slade was going to keep his word.

The knowledge filled him with a strange mixture of surprise, relief, and just the tiniest hint of regret. He didn't want to be kidnapped, really, but it would be . . . flattering, in an odd way, to have Slade try.

Robin shook his head, pushing the rogue thought away. He'd made the right choice. Now he could be sure that Slade would never bother him again. Telling himself he was celebrating, he headed for the training room.

A little time with a punching bag would make him feel even better.

* * *

The boy wasn't coming back.

Slade slammed his fist into against the throne, fury mounting as he considered Robin's complete lack of effort to contact him. He'd expected Robin to require a day or two to make up his mind, and another to argue with the rest of the Titans. He had not expected to wait _two weeks_ without hearing from the boy.

He'd seen Robin in battles, of course, out saving the town with of his insipid teenage friends. But not once had the boy returned to the hideout Slade had taken him to, or made any effort to see _him_. After an offer of equality, a blowjob, and a goddamned _apology_, how dare that ungrateful brat ignore his offer! His fist pounded the throne again, leaving no indentation despite the fury behind the blow. This only managed to intensify his rage. It was what he had the damn thing for, certainly, but it seemed as though even the chair was taunting him, refusing to bend to his will.

Slade sighed, calming himself. His anger was becoming irrational, and in any case would accomplish nothing. He was, after all, a man of his word. The boy had made a choice; Slade would abide by his promise. Robin was out of his reach.

_No._

The voice in his mind was cold, dominant, and angry. _He belongs to us. If we can't_ _show him how much he needs us, we'll take him by force._ "We've tried that before," Slade told himself angrily, "and it failed." _Patience, _the cold voice answered._ This time, we have a different kind of leverage. _Slade began to protest, but his mind conjured up a captivating image: Robin, kneeling before the throne, offering Slade tribute stolen on some unimagined mission. Adoration and lust mingled in his features as he asked hesitantly "Master? Have I done well enough for a reward?" His eyes darted downwards, to Slade's lap, then back up again.

He needs me, Slade thought, caught up in the fantasy. _I want him _echoed the darker voice, desire etched in every syllable.

Somewhere, in a small corner of Slade's dark mind, a tiny piece of him wondered if this was healthy. Weren't voices in your head supposed to be a warning sign? But as lust and anger writhed within him, coalescing into a new and twisted level of obsession, Slade decided he didn't really care.

"Yes."

His voice was soft and soulless, a perfect echo of the cold tone his darker thoughts had taken. "If my little bird can't admit how badly he needs me, I'll take him by force. Who knows? He might even enjoy it."

* * *

*Author's Note: Wow. A truly unhinged Slade. Is the world ready?

Anyway, here's a bit of a warning: It's about to get dark. Very dark. So if you don't like that stuff (I don't even like that stuff- and I'm writing it!) then you might not want to read the rest of this.

Also, how am I doing? A whopping 4 people have reviewed this (I know more of you put it on story alert! I can count. :) and I need more. Do you like it? Why? Do you hate it? Why? I can't get better if you don't tell me!


	4. Attack

The Titans never saw it coming.

They were walking down the street, headed for pizza, Robin rolling his eyes as BB and Cy argued for the thousandth time about pizza toppings.

"Dude, do you even know what's _in_ pepperoni?" Beats Boy promptly changed into a very angry-looking pig and back. "Do you really want to eat that?"

"Pepperoni is meat, tofu brain. I eat meat. Which is why we are getting meat!"

"But tofu is the bomb! And there's this really great-"

Beast Boy dropped like a stone between one word and the next, blood splashing onto the pavement. Robin spun to face the attack, even as Starfire was felled by a burst of crackling blue energy. A dart whizzed through the air and he ducked, hearing it whistle over his hand and bounce off Cyborg's arm with a metallic ping.

A group of Slade-bots stood in the street, identical except for the weapons they carried. One held a staff, blue energy humming at either end. Another, standing almost carelessly to the side, held a gun. With a surge of grief, Robin realized each robot was intended to take down a specific target- and BB was already gone. Then he was moving, racing towards the enemy as the sounds of Cyborg's blaster and Raven's chanting filled the air.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was screaming "He's dead, he's dead, they killed Beast Boy!" and another piece was wondering if Star was okay, because that blast looked bad, and what _was _that stuff? Robin ignored it all, blind fury filling him as he aimed a flying kick at a bot that was attempting to spray Raven with something red and oily. He was intercepted by the dart-throwing robot as it grabbed his ankle, pulling him down mid-way through his leap. Robin used the pull to put force behind a powerful kick with his other leg, and it crashed to the ground beneath him.

He was dimly aware of Cyborg yelling something in the distance, but he was too focused on battle to pay any heed. He spun, looking for a new target, then locked on the three that were fighting a hard-pressed Raven. A sudden sharp pain in his leg distracted him, and he looked down. A shining silver dart penetrated the skin below his knee, and another was in the hand of the bot he'd taken down.

Robin moved to kick it again, but suddenly he stumbled. He felt woozy, as if everything had crashed down on him in one giant wave, taking his energy with it as it receded. He staggered backwards, putting his arms up in a defensive position as the bot stood. He expected it to attack, and froze in shock when a familiar voice issued from it instead.

"You should have come to me, Robin. We could have avoided all this . . . mess."

"Slade." He gasped as he realized who he'd been fighting. Then he stumbled again, the drug that coated the darts taking over his system with lightning speed. Slade caught him as he fell, cradling the unsteady teen against his chest. "I really would have preferred to do this more civilly. It would have been more enjoyable for both of us." Slade stroked Robin's hair idly as he talked, apparently unconcerned about the battle still going on around them.

Robin felt himself sinking, rage and terror battling the numbness that swamped him. "Liar," he choked out "you promised me." His voice failed as the world spun crazily. Slade's voice was calm in the midst of chaos as he replied "I'm sorry Robin. I thought you would come to me willingly, and that I could control myself if you chose not to." Strong arms tightened around him "But I can't."

Robin wanted to tell him that wasn't the point, that Slade had promised not to hurt his _friends_, but he was drowning in blackness. The last things he felt before succumbed were Slade's strong, sheltering arms, wrapped around him tightly. Those arms- and his own of deep, burning hatred.

Slade didn't look back as he carried Robin away from the battlefield. Frightened civilian faces peered through windows and around corners, watching in dumbstruck horror as his robots gathered up the fallen Titans. Slade didn't even spare them a thought. The only thing that mattered was the boy in his arms. Robin was his at last.

*A/N: Sorry, I know it's short, but that seemed like the best place to end. More is coming soon, I promise.

I also apologize for the horrid fight scene. I know nothing about fighting. I tried asking myself "If I were Robin, what would I do?" but I promptly answered "Look at myself naked a lot." And that didn't seem like appropriate battle behavior.


	5. Honor

A/N: I've messed with the timeline a bit by making Wintergreen (Slade's butler and best friend) already dead. If you don't know who he is, I heartily urge you to look him up. He was in the show; they just never mentioned his name.

Warning: This chapter contains Bad Stuff. Be prepared.

Slade carried Robin into his personal quarters, satisfaction humming in his veins as he headed for the bedroom. Robin was going to wake up naked, handcuffed, and possibly very sore if Slade got impatient. As he walked down the hallway, a military sword hanging on the wall caught his eye, and he felt a momentary pang of shame run through him.

Years ago, that sword had belonged to a man Slade loved like a brother. William Wintergreen had been everything Slade no longer was- honorable, trustworthy, and humane. He'd been Slade's conscience for so many years, the only thing that stood between him and utter amorality. If Wintergreen could see him now, carrying an unconscious child to his bedroom, he would be furious.

Slade stopped in front of the sword. Perhaps he'd gone too far this time. Was he really going to force the boy? Was that the kind of man he wanted to be?

_Robin is ours_. The dark voice had returned, full of cold fury at the thought of abandoning their prize. _We will not relinquish him._

Slade walked on, angrily forcing his pointless thoughts to the side. Wintergreen was long gone, and he had worked too hard for this to simply give up. Robin belonged to him now, and nothing –be it hell, high water, or sentimentality brought on by a sword- was going to take his bird away. That did, however, give him a wonderful idea.

The dark voice laughed in approval.

Robin's mind flickered aimlessly through the haze, unable to focus on anything. He had the vague idea that he was lying on his stomach in bed, naked. His back really hurt, too. Had he bruised it in that battle? It was definitely time to wake up. The team would be worried about him, and- oh god. His team! Beast Boy!

Robin fought for consciousness, pulling himself slowly out of the darkness and into lucidity. Once he got there, he regretted it with his whole soul.

The first thing he noticed was pain. The entire world was one infinite pattern of agony being traced across his back. First the slice, a sharp, shallow ripping of flesh. Next a moment of relief as some kind of cool, thick lotion descended on the wound.

Then came the burning.

Even as the slashing pain came again, Robin decided the burning was worst. It felt like shapes of fire were being drawn on his back. Shapes . . . almost like letters.

Robin fought the urge to scream as he realized exactly what was being done to him.

Slade carved with exquisite care, carefully shaping each letter with immeasurable delicacy. He wanted this to be more than a mere declaration of ownership; it would also be a testament to Robin's fragile beauty.

He carefully spread the salve on each letter after he was through. It was partly comprised of saline solution, so it would help prevent infection as well as making sure the cuts scarred. He couldn't have his little bird tainted, after all. The only marks on Robin's body should be his.

He was just finishing the "d' when he felt Robin tense. That wasn't good. Robin should have been unconscious for some while longer, allowing Slade to finish his work and stop the bleeding before Robin knew what was happening.

Well, this should be interesting.

Robin couldn't help it. He whimpered as the knife slid through his skin again, hot blood rushing to the surface in its wake.

"There there, Robin." Slade's voice was low and soothing as he spread lotion over the fresh cut. "I know it hurts. But it's almost over. You can hold out for a little longer, can't you?"

"You bastard! You lied to me!" Robin didn't care about the knife at his back or the fact that his wrists were secured to the headboard. He was going to kill Slade with his bare feet.

"I realize you're upset, but you must understand the way I feel about yo-" Slade ducked as Robin aimed a kick at his face.

"Do you think I _care_? You _murdered_ my _friends_!" He lashed out again, wishing he had his boots, but Slade was too quick for him. He heard the man move around to the side of the bed but childishly refused to look, instead pressing his face into the deep blue blanket.

"Look at me, Robin."

Robin turned, intending to spit out a scathing comment, but the words froze in his throat. Slade stood beside the bed wearing no mask, no armor, not even a shirt. His only adornments were a pair of tight black pants and the blood that covered his hands.

Even as he loathed the man, Robin had to admit he was glorious. Thick white hair covered his head and formed a goatee on his chin. One piercing blue eye stared out from a brutally handsome face, the other covered by a black eye patch. And his body . . .

For a moment, Robin forgot that his back was on fire. He forgot that he was angry, bound, and bleeding. This was the man he had fantasized about a thousand times, and not one of those fantasies had even come close to the real thing. Slade was a god.

He shook himself mentally as Slade leaned down, face on level with his own.

"I didn't kill your friends, Robin. They're perfectly safe."

"Liar." Robin's voice was soft and broken, grief choking the anger and awe inside him. "I saw Beast Boy get shot. I don't know what you hit Starfire with, but I'm sure it was lethal. I can only guess what you did to Cyborg and Raven."

Slade's voice was full of quiet intensity as he replied.

"I swear to you, I did not kill them. I designed weapons specifically to neutralize their powers and incapacitate them. They were stunned, not killed. The tranquilizers I concocted for your green friend were not meant to hit the neck, which is why he bled so heavily. Afterwards, my robots took them back to the Tower. They were instructed to give any medical aid necessary. All of your friends are fine."

It could be a lie, but Robin didn't think so. Slade sounded sincere, but more importantly, Robin didn't think Slade would waste time lying about it. He went limp with relief. His team was safe.

Slade began to relax. Robin was effectively distracted from his own pain by news of his friends, and he was showing no signs of disbelief. It was just a well the little green one had lived; it had been a very close thing with that one. Suddenly Robin's head snapped back up, and he stared at Slade furiously. "And I suppose you're going to tell me you're not carving your name on my back?"

Slade moved back to the end of the bed, where Robin couldn't see him. He had no explanation that wouldn't make Robin angry out of hand, so distraction was vital.

To his horror, Robin felt Slade begin kissing his lower back, goatee softly brushing against the sensitive skin while his lips caressed it. If Robin hadn't been in so much pain, it would have been immensely arousing.

Right now, it was just pissing him off.

"Could you please not do that? Thanks to you, my back is currently the consistency of shredded lettuce."

Slade licked one last time, then regretfully stopped.

"I suppose you're right. It's only fair to give you time to heal before we engage in any strenuous activities." He sighed. "That being said, I'm going to finish your back now. Try not to flinch."

This time, the kick connected.

It probably hurt Robin's foot as much as it did Slade's face, and it was hard to tell which one of them was more surprised. It was obvious, however, that Slade was considerably more furious.

"What, precisely, was that for?" he snarled, rubbing his chin.

"That was for your overblown sense of entitlement. If you think I'm just going to let you slice up my back, you've got another thing coming. And I will not be engaging in any 'strenuous activities' with you, now or ever."

_He's goading you. _The dark voice wasn't angry this time, just amused. _He's naked, tied down, and in pain. Yet he's goading you. _The dark voice was suddenly saturated with lust_. Take him. Now. Show him who he belongs to. _

"I don't think you understand, Robin. Your choices are very limited. I can finish-" he traced the skin where the "e" would go, making Robin flinch- "or we can move on to a new activity. You have no other options."

Robin's foot lashed out again, catching Slade on the temple. "Burn in hell, Slade."

He didn't need the dark voice's urging this time.

Slade ripped off his pants and unshackled Robin, flipping the boy over, then pulling him down the bedspread. Robin cried out as his still-bleeding back rubbed painfully against the blanket, but Slade was past caring. He'd had enough of wanting, waiting, and being defied.

He was taking his due.

Robin fought as hard as he could, desperate to get away, but he had no chance. He was woozy from drugs and blood loss, and Slade was on top of him before he could move. He bit and scratched, struggling wildly, until Slade began to hit him. After his nose broke, he quickly decided there was less pain in staying still.

He was wrong.

Agony lanced through him as Slade pushed into him. He felt the muscles within him giving way, ripping and bleeding as Slade forced his way inside. The hands that had once seemed so sensual pawed at him, roughly groping and squeezing. The beautiful face was contorted with anger and lust as Slade pounded into him, bringing a fresh cry of pain with every movement.

Each moment was its own little nightmare, a tiny section of hell.

Each moment was glorious, a small slice of heaven. Slade thrust furiously into the tight passage, made slick with Robin's blood. Beneath him the boy was screaming and pleading, probably not with passion, but Slade was past all caring. The foolish bird had brought it on himself, after all.

Somehow, in the midst of all the pain, Robin noticed when his hand touched something cool and metallic in the bed.

Something cool, metallic, and sharp.

An idea born of desperation and opportunity occurred to him. Drawing on his old fantasies, he drew Slade's head down towards his nipples, arching as though he wanted them licked.

Slade dove for the bait, eager mouth latching on to a pink bud.

Robin grabbed the knife in one hand and wrapped his arms around Slade, positioning the knife directly above the back of his throat, praying Slade didn't realize what he was doing. If he screwed this up, he was dead.

A/N: That's right. I'm ending it right there. Because I wrote the last chapter first, and it begins right there. Don't kill me!


	6. Blood

The first cut was tricky. Robin hadn't expected skin to be so difficult to pierce. But he slammed down hard and was rewarded with a gush of blood.

After that it was easier, and he plunged the knife in deeply, again and again. Still inside him, Slade shuddered, ecstasy changing to pain as the knife drove into the back of his neck. Blood splattered and poured, dripping onto Robin's face as he stabbed with single-minded intensity.

Slade grabbed for Robin's arms, his face demonic from pain as he moved to pin the boy. But even as he reached, that single blue eye clouded. His arms fell, and then so did he, landing limp on top of Robin.

Robin knew he should stop, that Slade must be dead, but he couldn't. He knew he should get out from under the body; the longer he stayed here, the more traumatized he'd be later. Slade was still inside him, had _died_ inside him, and the thought made him want to vomit. But all he could focus on was the way Slade kept coming back, coming after him.

But Slade was dead now. _Even he can't rise from the dead_, Robin assured himself, plunging the knife one last time into the warm, gooey mess.

Robin flipped the corpse off himself, shuddering at the feel of that lifeless organ leaving his body. He sat shakily, his every injury shrieking in protest at the movement.

_Or can he_?

So many times he'd thought Slade gone, and so many times the man had returned. Robin's mind flashed back to a vampire movie he and Cyborg had watched- was it only a week ago? The rest of his life seemed so far away now.

In the movie, the vampires had kept coming back, even after they were staked. The hero was exhausted and confused, fighting the same vamps over and over, until he realized-

Robin grinned. Had anyone else been there to see him, teeth bright in his blood-flecked face, they would have cowered away from that smile. It looked desperate, painful, and maybe a little insane.

Maybe very insane.

Robin stood up and left the room, moving calmly despite his battered body and unstable emotions. He had a plan. He was going to find something bigger. Bigger and sharp.

Slade wasn't sure whether or not he was glad to be alive. It was very hard to make any kind of decision through the red haze of agony that consumed him. Dimly, he could feel his skin knitting back together, his regenerative powers going into overdrive as his body struggled to save itself. He should really remove the knife still protruding from his neck, but he couldn't move. That worthless little bastard had severed the top of his spinal cord with one of his wilder thrusts.

The pain was excruciating.

His blood soaked the bed beneath him, flowing freely into the mattress. His vision was hazy, but he thought there was some on the wall as well, flung there by Robin's enthusiastic knife work.

Slade wished with all his heart that he had been able to secure the brat before he had been paralyzed. It would be a long and painful process to heal from an injury this close to fatal, even with his abilities, but he'd done it before. And when he was through, he was going to find Robin.

He hoped the boy was running. Because Slade had no mercy left in him.

Robin smiled at he reached for the elegant sword mounted on the wall. This would work perfectly for what he had in mind, if it was sharp enough. He tugged it awkwardly out of its sheath and pressed a finger gently against the edge.

Feeling nothing, he pulled back. To his surprise, a thin line of blood trickled down his finger to join the crimson already coating him. _Perfect. I just hope I'm strong enough._

His arms were very tired.

Robin walked back towards the bloodstained bedroom, sword held cautiously in front of him. He half expected Slade to be waiting for him, miraculously healed and smiling that cold smile, but he still lay on the bed, a crimson fan on the mattress beneath his head.

Grabbing the body by its hair, Robin pulled it to the edge of the bed, so that the head and most of the neck hung off the side. He wasn't sure what effect the mattress would have on the process, and he didn't want to make it any harder than it had to be. He removed the knife still protruding from the back of Slade's neck, tossing into a corner before raising the sword.

He held it high, aimed carefully, and swung with all he had. In the moment before the blow hit, he could have sworn he saw Slade's eye fill with tears.

Slade was surprised when Robin came back into the room, carrying Wintergreen's sword in his trembling hands. Surprise quickly turned into alarm as he realized that Robin intended to use it. If the boy cut off one of his limbs, it would stay gone. That was the one thing his powers couldn't heal.

Alarm intensified as Robin pulled his head over the edge of the bed. For the first time in a very long time, Slade was flooded with unadulterated fear. _Oh god_. This couldn't be happening.

The last thing Slade heard, as the blade rushed down towards his neck, was the dark voice in his mind laughing as it told him "It was only a matter of time, Slade. It was only a matter of time."

It wasn't as easy as Robin thought it would be. Despite the already lacerated state of Slade's neck and the sharpness of Robin's new toy, it took three strokes before the head was completely severed. It fell to the ground with a soft _whump_.

That struck him as a funny sound for a head to make, and he giggled. He had the sudden urge to just sit down on the floor and laugh, snickering until the crimson streaks faded from his skin and the smell of death left the room. But he couldn't do that, could he? There was one more thing you had to do to vampires, after you cut off their heads.

You had to burn them.

Robin searched the lair, hoping for gasoline and matches. Instead, he found several bottles of a chemical labeled diethyl ether. It was marked with the little symbol that indicated flammability, along with one that looked like a mutated sunburst. Robin didn't recognize it, and he didn't particularly care. After another ten minutes of searching, he found a small lighter and traipsed back to the bedroom, heart light.

_Ugh_. Robin wrinkled his nose. It smelled even worse in here now that he'd been out in the fresh air for so long.

Oh well. It would all be gone soon anyway. He unstoppered the tops of the glass bottles and poured the substance over the now headless cadaver, along with the blankets and pillows. After a moment of consideration, he picked up Slade's head and placed it on the bed as well, gently smoothing the ruffled hair. Then he flicked the wheel on the lighter and set the blanket aflame.

It quickly became apparent that the chemical was _very _flammable. And after a few minutes, Robin understood what the little sunburst meant.

Diethyl ether was also explosive.

Flames danced along the walls and licked greedily at the mattress, making the blood that soaked it hiss and steam. Balls of bright orange fire burst and crackled like fireworks as the chemical enhanced the force that consumed it. Robin sat unmoving as the world turned to ash and explosion, making no attempt to escape. He watched with a smile as the flames drew closer, not flinching as the heat bore down on him.

His last thought as the roaring inferno consumed him was that Bruce and the Titans would be very proud of him.

He had finally beaten Slade.


	7. Announcement

Rumor has it all naughty stories will be removed from . In case it's true, I'm letting you know I also have a DeviantArt under TheMsMeep where you can find all my stories.


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